Albatross
by Poisoned Scarlet
Summary: If you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Attack on Titan.

**Albatross  
by.** _Poisoned Scarlett_

Petra remembers having tea with her mother and father by the window in their little cottage. The Wall would block the view of the plains, but Petra learned how to look past it, to watch the pillars of sunlight that slanted into the earth instead of open fields. It's peaceful in her town and she can hear the birds chirping in her ears and she can feel the wind, warm and comforting, blow through the open window, through their pale curtains—she can almost see her mother, tending to the tiny garden in the front porch, bent down on one knee, her skirts gathered up in her hand, pulling out weeds with the other as the wind tousled her long hair over her shoulder. She can see her father, reclined in his chair by the sink, carving something out of a block of wood with his pocket knife, catching her gaze and smiling warmly, his eyes crinkling at their sides with such hope and happiness it's almost as if there are no monsters outside the Wall.

Petra remembers this, remembers the smells and the sights and the feelings. She smiles because her home has always been secluded, closed away from the vanguard, from the fighting and blood and screams and_ humans, _humans who are caught in colossal hands, crushed between fingers, bent over backwards until their jaws gape and their eyes lock with yours and bleed _red_—

"Petra," a crisp voice cuts through her thoughts. "What are you doing here?"

Her eyes open and they fall on bleak concrete. She can't hear her mother and father, only the stagnant silence that the castle is known for. She's standing by a ruined sink whose faucet no longer works, whose entire foundation is on the brink of crumbling. It's dusty and she spots the complex web of a spider in the corner, flies caught in its midst—_caught_, she thinks, like they are, in a mysterious web just waiting for the spider to crawl down its silky strands and cocoon them in a body bag.

"I…was just making tea, Corporal," Petra says, belatedly. She holds out the kettle with a wide smile. "Would you like some?"

Corporal Levi gives her a three second stare before nodding, taking seat at their rickety table. He loudly scoots the chair back, leaning and crossing his ankle over his knee. He rests his elbow on the table, the wood groaning with his weight, and Petra continues to make tea.

That's right. _That's right,_ she no longer lives in that life. She no longer sees her mother and father because she's in the Scouting Legion. She cannot watch the sunlight drift through the windows because it reminds her of Titans now, their translucent skin that sometimes glows orange—bright and hot like the sun. There are no gardens here, only rolling hills and tall trees, the occasional flower that's always plowed through by their horses. There is no peace beyond the wall, and there is no peace in the Scouting Legion, only breaks long enough to breathe.

"Here you go, sir," Petra says softly as she serves him, taking seat across from him. Her cup steams and it reminds her of Titans. She looks away, blows on her cup and doesn't look at the swirl of smoke that curls above her.

"You're awfully quiet today," Levi comments, sipping his tea. His eyes are sharp."What? Auruo actually piss you off?"

Petra scoffs at his baiting. She looks down at her cup, finally, then looks away. "I haven't seen him since yesterday. I believe he's with Mike tending to the horses." She blows on her tea one last time and takes a drink. She looks up at Levi from over the rim of her cup. He's tilting his chair back, gazing ahead thoughtfully. He has his cup in his hand, the rim pressing into his cheekbone every so often. She wonders what he's thinking about, and then wonders if he is even thinking anything at all. He is always so composed, so calm, so absolutely solid, even in battle, even when their teammates are being bent over backwards in colossal hands, jaws gaping, eyes wide, the sunlight steeped red with their bloo—

Petra closes her eyes and she's back, back at her home, back with her father, with the smells of freshly baked bread and the sound of the creaky hinge on their door. She can see her mother walk in, dusting her skirts off and giggling because she thinks her roses are blooming. She hopes they will last through the summer. She has one in her hand, a bright red one, its thorns still raw. She already has a vase, see, to put them in so they could light up the house, light it up _red, gaping jaws and broken spines and_—

Petra's eyes snap open and she drops her cup. She clumsily makes a grab for it before it breaks, catching it with a loud rattle that is surely, surely not missed by the Corporal. Petra feels her face redden—what a stupid move, and in the presence of the Corporal, too! She wants to stand up and excuse herself to her room, wants to apologize for being such a weakling in his face, but Levi's unreadable gaze holds her tongue in place.

He doesn't say anything, only stares blankly at her.

Petra feels sweat collect at her temple.

"Ah, um, I…my hand slipped."

Levi doesn't laugh. He never laughs. He only crinkles his eyes a little and turns away. That's how he laughs. But he doesn't even show her that now: he only gives her an impenetrable stare. Petra knows how hard it is to make him smile, having been in the Scouting Legion for the past four months now and only having seen him smile once, when he took down four titans in one maneuver. But one picks things up from living with a person, like their habits and customs and speech patterns and gait. _Everything_, because things are different when you live with someone in such cramped quarters.

Things are different when you fight for your life with someone.

"It's best not to think about it."

Petra startles at his soft tone.

"What we do," Levi clarifies. The rim of his cup bites into his cheek. "If you think about it for too long, it will haunt you. You trust in your team, you trust in yourself, and you will succeed. If you falter in either, you will fail." His eyes are certain. Petra cannot look away. "The only thing that is absolute in this world are our choices, and you must choose the one you will least regret."

"The one…I will least regret?" she whispers, looking down at her tea. It's not steaming anymore. "I'm scared," she admits softly. She doesn't know if he's listening, doesn't know if he even cares. But she hasn't told anyone. She hasn't told anyone but those letters she doesn't send to her father, the ones where the ink rips through to the wood and her tears blot the paper. "Whenever we go on missions, I'm scared we won't return together. I'd never seen Titans before joining, I just…I didn't think—I _didn't_ think," she states, hands tightening over her cup. "I chose the Scouting Legion in order to be a helpful asset to humanity. I gave up my comfortable life with my parents in order to help humanity move forward but, the Titans…" she draws in breath, her chest tight, her bones cold, "…_the titans scare me so much._"

"We're all afraid."

Petra looks up.

Levi has his cup on the table now. He is not looking at her.

"No one is fearless. But we elect the choice we think we will be able to live with, and we live with it."

"What if…you know it's the right choice, but you can't do it anyway?"

Levi looks up at her and his eyes are less cold than before. They're not warm, but they're not brutal, either. "If you can sleep at night, that's all that matters. Gear up, Petra. Commander Irvin has an assignment for you, Auruo, and Gunther. You're late."

Petra gasps in horror, standing up hastily. "Oh, no! I hope I didn't keep anyone waiting! Why didn't you tell me earlier, Corporal—!"

"Tell Irvin I held you back," Levi calmly says, stunting her panic. He's back to reclining in his seat, running a finger over the rim of his cup. "He'll understand."

"Yes, sir!"

"Petra."

Petra hesitates by the door, looking over her shoulder. Levi is faced away from her. He's looking out the cloudy window, looking out the window like she did when she was young and had no worries. She wonders what he thinks about, again, wonders if he's made choices he can live with as well.

She wonders if he can sleep at night.

"Trust in me if you cannot trust in _them._"

Her eyes widen. Petra feels hot. She can feel her throat tighten and her blood rush in her ears and, for once, she is glad that Corporal Levi is not looking at her because she is sure he will see right through her act. He will know and he won't tell her, no, but he has his ways of taunting his teammates—just like he taunts Auruo for copying him, for cutting his hair like him, with cryptic jabs at his skill and height and rank.

Petra looks down, biting her lip to hold back a smile.

"…Yes, Corporal. _Thank you_," she quietly utters the last bit and darts down the hall, palming her hair down and breathing in deeply.

She can trust in her Corporal.

She can do that because she has full faith that her Corporal will not allow any harm to come to them. He has never given her a reason to doubt him.

She tucks away images of blood and broken spines and gaping jaws and decides to trust in her Corporal.

She sleeps well that night.


End file.
